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Red Plain
'''Red Plain '''is the first encounter in the The Wizard in the Tower hub. It is followed by the 5 Infernal Portals. Enemies *Imp (420 Gold, 56 XP, 35 Energy, 6 HP Normal, 7 HP Hard, 8 HP NM) *Infernal Warrior (480 Gold, 64 XP, 40 Energy, 6 HP Normal, 5 HP Hard, 6 HP NM) Transcript Introduction You press on over the plain, for the moment shunning the ash-grey woods to your left. There's no opportunity for stealth on this open expanse, but for all you know the trees might contain lurking dangers ready to fall upon you the moment you enter their depths. Better to see the threat as soon as it sees you. Then at least you'll know what to expect in this place. The answer soon comes. In the distance, across the vermilion field, is a jostling mass of creatures the size of small children. Even from here, it's clear that the scrambling, shoving beings are unnatural. Grey, black, and red hues mingle together in the press of flesh, and their movements remind you of frenzied rodents. "Imps," you announce. There are murmurs of discontent from those around you -- the customary reaction of humans encountering infernal beings for the first time. You share a portion of their uneasiness. But you've been tutored to face all manners of creature, studied countless tomes on demons, the undead, and other beings shrouded from most men and women in a layer of unfathomable mystery. You know what you're in for, and that makes all the difference. That's your initial thought. The next is one of confusion, as you focus on a figure standing next to the imps, towering above their diminutive forms. From the look of him he's a human, and at first you take him for some demonist -- perhaps the summoner of these infernal fiends. But he seems to be remonstrating with the demons, accompanying his words with wild gesticulations that make him resemble a bird preparing to fly. For their part, the imps seem to be jeering at him in amusement, rather than swarming over him and ripping him apart as one might expect of those vicious little creatures. You advance, prepared for battle but also curious to hear the exchange that's going on. As luck would have it, the words reach you before the interlocutors show any sign of having noticed you. "I demand your obedience!" the man yells. Now that you're closer, you see that he's an unprepossessing individual. He looks to have seen at least forty years of life, most of which were probably spent in a tavern. His stomach bulges over and under the piece of cord that serves as his belt, as though attempting to engulf it, and undulates with each swing of his flabby arms to provide a rumbling echo in support of his words. The round nose in his equally podgy face is red, the flow of blood long since corrupted by an excess of ale if appearances are anything to go by. The tenuous remains of his greasy hair have been dragged across his bald pate, and resemble long strands of seaweed clinging to the bloated corpse of a drowned man. "Obey?" one of the imps cackles. "Can't even speak proper demon words, and asks us to obey!" Raucous laughter comes from his brethren. Some of them even double over or roll around on the ground in their merriment. You never knew imps were this jovial. "I told you -- this thrice-damned human tongue can't shape the words!" In the very same second that his lips close after delivering that pronouncement, they open again. "Hey! Watch your bloody mouth... I mean, our bloody mouth. Can't expect my tongue to talk that silly demon rot. Don't know how you can even call it a language. Sounded like you were cracking nuts when you tried it. Or else singing with a mouth full of rocks." The sound is... different. The first time he spoke, there was no discernable accent. His voice was that of an educated man. Now he sounds like he's come from a Titaran slum. The imps continue to express their hilarity. The one who addressed the man falls onto his back and kicks his legs in the air, screeching with delight. Then he springs back to his feet in one swift motion, demonstrating agility you hadn't anticipated. You'll have to remember that... "Old master is funny!" the creature says. "Like loquax demon with one head! But new master is powerful. Old master should run away on fat human legs, before new master zap him! Zap, zap -- no old master!" "I am your rightful lord!" the man says in his more elegant voice, waving a sausage-like finger in admonition -- a gesture that makes him resemble a schoolmaster berating his charges. "Serve me, or be obliterated by my mighty wrath!" The imps jeer. Several of them place their thumbs against the tips of their noses, and wiggle their extended fingers in mockery. An absurd and irrelevant question forces itself to the surface of your mind: Did they learn that taunt from human children, or did human children somehow learn it from imps? The man growls, lifts a flabby arm in the air, and swings his meaty fist down like a hammer. It crashes on the crimson crown of the loquacious imp's head, between his stubby horns. The imp collapses beneath the weight of the blow, and falls onto his butt. The man cries out in triumph as he stands above his dazed foe. Then the other imps surge forward. "Oh, bloody hell!" the man yells in his Titaran voice. He turns and runs, his wobbling mass hurtling towards you, a look of blind panic on his face. The imps are close behind, scurrying after him amidst a medley of shrieks and laughter. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees you ahead of him, but he continues to rush at you -- knowing that the imps will be swarming over him the second he stops running. You step aside and your companions do the same, allowing the man through. You don't know what's going on, but you can find out after you stop the imps from murdering him... Conclusion "Smash their bodies!" you yell. You drive the heel of your boot down on a fallen imp's skull, stomping again and again until you hear the telltale crack. Your companions follow your lead, and all around you they begin to trample the diminutive demons' corpses. "They deserve to be crushed like insects for betraying me," says the man you rescued, moving in front of you. He nods in approval as he watches you break their bodies beneath your boots. "Why exactly are we doing this?" Tessa asks, though she continues to drive her foot down onto the nearest imp in deference to your example. "Imps have to be smashed," you say. "If you cut them up, each piece regenerates into a new imp." "Not these breeds," the man says. "Oh." You step off the mutilated corpse, and cast a rueful look at your companions. Tessa rolls her eyes, then begins to inspect the infernal matter that's now caked on her boots. With the imps apparently no longer posing a threat, you direct your attention to the man. "Who are you?" you ask, before realizing that there's a rather more pertinent question. "What are you?" You brandish your weapon and advance on him. As unimposing as he looks, this man is somehow connected to these demons. That makes him a threat. "I am Prince Brach'Xell'Ctharat'Sezrachus, master of Krezzor, ruler of all its denizens!" "Except he doesn't have any sodding denizens now," says the Titaran voice, following on from the previous one in such rapid succession that his lips barely have time to stop moving. "Someone went and bagged them. And he's not really master of Krezzor either. Someone else bagged that and all." "This man's possessed by a demon," Tessa says. "Oh, aren't we clever, miss? Just worked that out, did you? What gave it away? The fact that I've got two bloody voices, or that we were standing there palavering with a pack of those stunty little bastards?" "We can help," you say. "I've never performed an exorcism before, but-" "I didn't take this human by force," says the other voice. "We made an arrangement." "He's right. Just wish he hadn't tried to get us killed by smacking that imp around..." "He earned my wrath." "You chose to let him into your body?" you ask, wishing to forestall the absurdity of witnessing a man argue with himself. "Yes. The name's Hugh. But all the buggers back home call me Huge, because they think they're a bunch of bloody jesters." "If he's in league with a fiend, we should kill him," Tessa says. In the space of a heartbeat she notches an arrow to her bow and draws back the string. She glances at you for confirmation, her dexterous fingers poised to release death. "What?" Hugh leaps back. "No! Brachus -- do something!" "What would you have me do?" the demon asks. "If your body contained one mote of magic energy, or was encased in muscle instead of fat..." "I'm sorry," you say, "but you've allowed yourself to become a pawn in a demon's nefarious games. If you willingly allowed him into your body, no exorcism I could perform would drive him out. Only death will send him back to the infernal realms." You raise your weapon. "I demand that you spare this human!" the demon cries. "He may be tiresome and corpulent, but he's better than nothing." "Listen to him!" Hugh pleads. "Hear him... me... us out! We're not doing any harm! You can't just come along and chop my head off because you feel like it! You adventurers think you can swan around killing any folk you feel like killing? You're just like Crenus' men, but without the fancy uniforms!" "Crenus' men?" you ask. A look of desperate hope appears on Hugh's flabby face. He sees that the mention of the king has caught your attention, and he seems to almost physically cling to it like a drowning man grabbing hold of a rope. "They were going to hang me, because I didn't want to be conscrapted." "Conscripted?" you reply. "Yes! That one!" "Why would the king's men want to conscript someone like you?" Tessa asks. "I doubt you'd even fit in the uniform..." "They didn't want me to be a sodding warrior. They wanted me to cook their food. Had a reputation as the best cook for miles around, I did. And when a bunch of those recruiters tasted my stew, they tried to conscrapt me on the spot. Wanted me to go marching around with their army, and feed their soldiers. Good for morale, they said. Ha! How much morale do you need to go around smashing your own people up because they won't pay their taxes? Besides, I couldn't live on army rations!" "I was searching for a host," the demon explains. "And he was easily persuaded." "Better than having my bowels opened on the gallows!" "So, Brach'Xath... Xeth..." "I just call him Brachus," says Hugh. "Brachus," you continue, "set you free?" "A sliver of power remained in me when I entered your realm. Just enough to free us from the cell." "Those imps called you their old master." "All the demons who now serve him were once mine. He stole them from me." "Him?" "The man in the tower." A faint smile crosses his lips. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To slay him? If so, I assure you that our goals are one and the same." "This man... Who is he? No one we spoke to had seen him. They'd only heard about his creatures." "A wizard. A powerful one. He came into my realm, tore through the barrier between our worlds as if it were parchment. The protective spells on my palace kept mighty fiends at bay, yet he managed to step right into my throne room." Brachus growls through Hugh's lips, and his face twitches in obvious displeasure at recounting that violation of his sanctum. "We fought, and the battle left both of us drained. He must have harnessed potent sources of arcane might before he came, for I sensed the spent magic sloughing from his body -- as though it had come from outside his flesh rather than within. But he won... I was left broken on the throne room floor, my innards strewn around me. And my minions were gone, vanished along with my vanquisher." "And yet you survived," Tessa says. "I was forced to draw infernal energy from my palace to heal my wounds, draining the wards and leaving it defenseless. I knew my enemies would seize upon that moment of weakness, and begin their assault. But I had no choice. And though my body was frail, it was made whole enough to escape before they could find me." "He couldn't get by in hell without minions," Hugh says. "The other demons would have ripped him apart. So he tried to find a way to our world. Thought he could find the wizard, and that maybe his minions would come back to him when they knew he was still alive. But he needed a host. And here we are." "I was telling the tale!" Brachus fumes. "And taking all bloody day about it, with your longwinded fancy talk. If these people wanted to hear an epic they'd hire a sodding bard." Hugh shrugs his shoulders, and looks from you to Tessa and back again. "Anyway, he just wanted to get what was his and bugger off home. No harm in that, is there?" "You can't trust a demon," you reply. "They live only to cause chaos and suffering in our realm." "Bollocks!" says Hugh. "What?" "You heard me! Bollocks!" "What does that even-" "I've seen inside his head... Well, inside my head... Our head. We think with the same brain." "Such as it is," Brachus interjects. "He had everything he wanted back home. Power, servants, beautiful demon women..." Hugh's eyes seem to glaze over at the memory, and Tessa has to give a pointed cough before he snaps out of it and continues. "Why would he want to waste his time here?" "He speaks the truth," Brachus says. "Your world is of no interest to me. Were it not for that accursed wizard, I would never have deigned to set foot here." "Heard stories about demons," one of your companions offers. "They're always trying to take over the world." "Human storytellers and scholars only know about the demons who come to your world for such purposes," Brachus replies. "Those of us who remain in the infernal realms, content to deal with our own affairs, never come to their attention." There is some sense in that, you muse. "Your minions rejected you," you say. "Where does that leave you?" "Mired in excrement. But at least I can watch while you slay the man responsible." "You not only expect us to spare your life, but to allow a demon into our midst?" Tessa asks. "Yes. And as a sign of my good faith, I'll tell you what I learned from those idiotic and treacherous imps. It concerns the wizard's magical defenses. Without my knowledge, you'd find his door sealed against you by eldritch forces too powerful for you to sunder." He pauses as if to let his words sink in. "There are five portals arranged around the Black Tower, each sustained by the infernal energy of the demons around it. They form lines of power in the shape of a pentagram, with the tower at its center. Only by killing those demons and closing the portals may you gain access and slay the wizard." "Remarkable precautions for a man powerful enough to attack a demon's palace," you say. Brachus shrugs. "I cannot speak to his motives. But as I told you, I believe he was at his zenith when he defeated me -- his body saturated with magic siphoned from other sources." You stare at Hugh and Brachus for a long moment, into the eyes that serve as the window to two souls, and ponder the situation. Part of you urges caution, warns against allowing a possessed human to live, let alone accompany you. But if you're to be facing fiends, creatures this Brachus knows well, his knowledge might prove far more valuable than any you gleaned from your studies. So you decide to take a chance. After all, how dangerous can he be if he was forced to flee from a pack of imps? "If you're lying to me..." you say. "If there's even the slightest hint of betrayal..." "You'll strike my head from my shoulders?" the demon asks. "Exactly." "Great." Hugh sighs. Category:The Wizard in the Tower